


Germination

by thingswithwings



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Bondage, Community: kink_bingo, Dirty Talk, F/M, Rape Fantasy, Roleplay, Sex Toys, Strap-Ons, Tentacles, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-17
Updated: 2010-05-17
Packaged: 2017-10-24 03:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tentacles and true love.  <em>Jennifer hasn't told anyone, but she remembers being a Wraith hive ship.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Germination

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bironic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bironic/gifts).



> Set right after 502, "The Seed." Because how can you not.
> 
> Contains references to the noncon tentacle porn from the episode, but all the sex in the story is very consensual. There's also a bit of consensual rape fantasy.

Jennifer hasn't told anyone, but she remembers being a Wraith hive ship.

It's not really something you can bring up casually over drinks – hey, remember when I sprouted tentacles and wove them all through the city and attacked people with them? cuz I do! – but it's also not really something that you forget about easily. Even on Atlantis, where her patients regularly have to deal with the fact that they've grown a third arm or suddenly become twice their usual density or been turned into aquatic mammals (which, interestingly, also had three arms), becoming a giant writhing bug-spaceship is kinda memorable.

So Jennifer tries to cut herself some slack, and indulges her own curiosity as she gets better: she watches the thick, muscled vines wither and drop away from her body, feels the unsettling internal movement as her organs slide back into position, stares in the mirror for hours until she's sure she can actually see the Wraith-style irises changing back to normal. It's astonishing how little time it all takes; within hours of the injection, she was able to get up out of the mass of dead tentacles that used to be part of her body; within days, the last of the little developing sprouts dropped away from her skin; within a week, she was her old self again, mostly.

There are still weird rough patches of skin all along her chest and abdomen and thighs where the tentacles first appeared. She can hardly see them in the mirror – they're only a little red, compared to the rest of her skin – but when she runs a hand down over her breast and belly, she can feel them.

Rodney comes to see her while she's recovering, and a couple of times after she's returned to active duty, too, bringing over dinner or a six-pack. They fuck once, two weeks after the incident, with their clothes on; when Rodney runs his fingers inquiringly along the bottom seam of her t-shirt, she distracts him by straddling him and sinking down on his dick, which has the additional benefit of distracting her, too.

Once she's back to normal, she figures, they can do the slow undressing and the candles and the marathon fuck session.

Until then, the marks are her secret to keep, and if she keeps on indulging her curiosity, every night, running her hands over her torso and remembering what it was like to be a Wraith hive ship, that's her business.

*

The really weird part of it is, everyone just treats her like she didn't spend several days as a sprouting hive ship, as if they don't remember it or something. Which makes it really hard to begin a conversation about it, and even harder to not feel weird for _wanting_ to remember in the first place.

She tries to bring it up with Woolsey, but has to give up after he repeatedly refers to the thing where she grew tentacles and tried to take over the city as 'your recent illness.' And Teyla's not much better, telling her that all kinds of people get infected with Wraith DNA and that it's nothing to be ashamed of, like she's doing an ad for herpes medication. She thinks about talking to Ronon about it, but then she remembers all too clearly the way his wrists had felt, the way she'd coiled thick strands of muscle around his arms and legs and neck and held him to the wall. The way he'd struggled, the way she could hold his entire body, cover his entire body with just a fraction of her own. He'd felt strong, but not strong enough.

No, better not to talk to Ronon about it, really.

In desperation, eventually, she decides to try bringing it up with her boyfriend.

*

"Did you see me? When I was a giant tentacle monster?" Jennifer asks, while they're having lunch.

"What? No," Rodney says, too hastily. "Well, I saw you at the beginning, when you were a small tentacle monster. But after that Woolsey kept me locked in my room, so." He shrugs nervously. "Why would you ask?"

Outside the door to the cafeteria, five xenobiologists walk by carrying large chunks of muscle that used to be under Jennifer's conscious control. They're still hauling the stuff out of her quarters, ripping the vines out all the walls and power conduits. It might take months to get it entirely cleaned up, Woolsey said. Jennifer wonders what they're doing with it all – throwing it in the sea? Dumping it in space? Grinding it up for fertilizer on the mainland?

"No reason," she says. "I guess I just wondered if you were grossed out."

Rodney shakes his head. "Oh, no. I hang out with Ronon and John all the time, so. My grossout meter is pretty high."

"Also, you were there when Parrish turned into an aquatic mammal, right?"

"Mmm-hmm, with the third arm and all," Rodney agrees, taking another bite of his sandwich, then talking with his mouth full. "Seriously, Sheppard turned into a bug like our second year here, so really there's nothing new under the sun."

After they finish lunch and go their separate ways, Jennifer feels strangely disappointed, like she was hoping that Rodney would be grossed out. Maybe she needs some sort of extreme body transformation support group.

*

"Hey, Sheppard," Jennifer says, and runs down the corridor to catch up with him.

"Hey," Sheppard says equitably, turning to walk with her.

"We haven't really had a chance to talk since I've stopped being a hive ship," she begins. Sheppard winces at the word 'talk,' but perks cautiously back up at the words 'hive ship.'

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say, I'm sorry I penetrated your abdomen with my spacebug tentacles."

He goes back to wincing. "Uh, you know, that's fine – "

"No, really, I'm glad you're getting better, but sorry you had to go through that."

Sheppard shifts from foot to foot, then says, "Hey, that's okay – I've been through that kind of thing, and I know you weren't really in control at the time." When she nods, he confides, "I turned into a bug."

"Yeah, it's funny, Rodney just mentioned that earlier today."

"What did he say?" Sheppard's squinting at her suspiciously now.

"Just that, you know, you turned into a bug."

"Yeah."

There's a long pause.

"Well," Jennifer says, "I'm – glad we could clear that up."

Sheppard shrugs. "Good talk."

*

Rodney hasn't told anyone, but he's kept all the footage from when Jennifer turned into a Wraith hive ship.

There isn't much – just the early stuff, before the security cameras in the corridors cut out – but there are a few seconds here and there. A vine curling up a wall, a thick spiderweb glimpsed for a moment behind a door, a set of three of them rearing up to explore the air. He tells Jennifer about it, of course, and then gives copies to xenobiology for further study.

But he keeps it; it's fascinating, how fast she – they – grew, how far they penetrated in so little time. How many of them there were, and how strong. There's a mark on Ronon's neck, a bruise that starts deep purple in the middle and fades to reds and yellows at the edges, a single line that curls in a wave over his adam's apple, then twists around to wrap up under his jaw. It wasn't there at first, right after it all happened, but it must've been pretty deep, because after a week or so it had bloomed to the surface and even now that it's fading a little, Rodney can't stop looking at it. There are other marks, too, but Ronon's been wearing his long-sleeved jacket and so there are only brief flashes of red rope burn when he raises his hand and his cuff falls down.

"What," Ronon says, glaring. There's a bite of potatoes on his fork, raised halfway to his mouth. Rodney wonders if it hurts him to swallow.

"Nothing! Just, that must be . . . painful, isn't it?" Rodney gestures with his own fork at Ronon's throat.

Ronon shrugs. "I've had worse." He considers. "I've had worse when teammates were genetically altered and turned into monsters."

"Fair," Rodney says.

"That whole hive ship thing, though," Ronon continues, "that was messed up."

"What was messed up?" Teyla asks, as she and John come to sit with them.

"Tentacle monster," Ronon says, around a bite of steak. Teyla nods.

"John was just saying how odd it felt to be penetrated by one of the – tendrils," she says.

"Hey, can everyone stop using the word _penetrated_?" John protests. "First Keller, now you."

Rodney stares at John for a second. "What do you mean, it felt odd?" he asks eventually. "You've been shot before, and stabbed, and bitten by an aquatic mammal – "

"Parrish never did apologise for that," John grumbles.

Ronon nods sympathetically. "To me either."

"So _anyway_ ," Rodney continues, rolling his eyes, "how was this any different?"

Teyla and Ronon turn to look expectantly at John, and John squirms. "Bullets just make a hole. They don't – move around once they're inside."

Rodney blinks.

"Messed. Up," Ronon reiterates, and trades his apple for Teyla's orange.

*

"Did you, uh," Rodney begins that night, when they're hanging out and having a beer. When he doesn't finish, Jennifer nudges him.

"Did I what?" she asks, and he tries desperately to think of a way to break into this conversation without using the words 'tentacle monster.'

"Did you want me to see you when you were a giant tentacle monster?" He asks, all in a rush, and then grimaces.

To his relief, Jennifer just laughs. "What?"

"Uh." He's not really sure where he was going with that. "You asked yesterday, if I'd –"

"I was, just – "

"So you don't – "

They both stop trying to talk and laugh awkwardly. Rodney always wishes he knew how to make it not awkward between them, but maybe they're just awkward people. He's not sure.

"I was just curious about – what you'd seen," Jennifer says, after a pause. She takes his hand; her palm is sweaty. "Whether you were – " she grimaces. "You know what, I don't know why I was asking."

Rodney nods, even though he's not really sure what kind of conversation they're having. "Are you worried I'm going to be freaked out by your body or something?"

Jennifer snorts. "No, it's not that." She gives him a speculative eyeball. "What the hell," she mutters, and tugs her shirt up a little to expose a section of her belly.

Rodney looks puzzled, then tilts his head. "Is that – " he reaches toward her, then glances up to meet her eyes doubtfully.

"Go ahead," she says, but she sounds nervous. Rodney touches his fingers to the spot he can see, a little circular red mark with the tiniest healing pinprick at the centre of it. She hisses lightly, and her skin twitches involuntarily under his hand.

"Sorry, sorry, is that sensitive?"

"Yeah, but – uh." Rodney's kind of astonished to see that she's blushing. Jennifer never blushes. "Not bad-sensitive, I guess."

"Oh," Rodney says. " _Oh_."

"Yeah," she says, and the tension goes away from between her eyebrows. Rodney presses his thumb to the mark – it's easier to feel than to see, rough and scratchy, but spongy, too, like her body is slightly more porous in that area. She looks down at him, and he moves his thumb in a slow circle around it.

"Hey, Jennifer," Rodney says, slowly, like he's hypnotizing himself with the gentle, circular motion he's applying.

"Yes, Rodney?"

"What was it like, being a Wraith hive ship?"

She grins down at him. "It was kind of cool," she admits.

They have sex again, better sex this time, with Rodney's hands spanning her ribs and pressing in against all the little marks that cover her skin. They look like sucker-marks, he thinks, and when Rodney goes down on her he keeps his eyes open, watches as she runs her fingers over them tenderly.

*

"It was like I was everywhere," Jennifer whispers, over breakfast. "I could – feel, everywhere, the whole city. You don't even know how, how _big_ I was."

Rodney nods enthusiastically, leaning in to meet Jennifer's conspiratorial whisper. "I can imagine," he replies, smiling. "They're still hauling you out of the transformer station near my lab."

She reaches toward him with both hands, entreatingly. "I know, I know, and that's _weird_ , right? Like, in a period of hours, I went from being able to touch everything to, just being myself again."

Rodney feels a blush creeping across his cheeks, but for once he doesn't care. "Let me ask you something," he says, raising his index finger in a 'just one moment' sort of gesture. "If you could do it again, and be guaranteed that you could change back, and you wouldn't hurt anyone . . . "

"In a second," Jennifer replies. "It was – I mean, I wasn't in control, that was the other thing, the hive ship took over my mind, but – if I could do it where I stayed in control? Totally."

There's a little pause, and then Rodney hears himself asking, "What's the first thing you'd do? If you were changed back."

Jennifer raises an eyebrow, then takes a huge bite of the crunchy fruit she's holding. She chews for a minute, then swallows. "Well, I dunno, Rodney," she says, and she sounds a little excited, daring. "What's the first thing you'd want me to do?"

*

Jennifer shows up at Rodney's door that night with a bottle of wine in one hand and an unmarked cardboard box in the other. There's sweat prickling on the back of her neck and her heart is beating so fast she's vaguely worried she might have a coronary before she can go through with it, but – fuck it, she's going through with it.

"Hey," she says. "I brought party favours." Rodney waves her in.

"That's great, I was just finishing for the night," he says, gesturing at his computer. "If I look at one more passive-aggressive report from Zelenka about the lamentable and pitiable state of the labs on the north pier, my head may explode."

They pour the wine and settle down on the couch, and then she tries desperately to think of a way to break into this conversation without using the words 'tentacle monster.'

"So, I was thinking about this whole – hive ship transformation thing," she says, and Rodney gets a look in his eyes like he's not sure whether he's more excited than he's ever been, or more terrified. He nods.

"Go on," he says, nearly gulping like a cartoon character. Between that and the fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, she's able to relax a bit; it's reassuring, somehow, to know that Rodney's nervous too.

"Well, I was thinking we could – play around, you know." She gives him her best wry grin, the one that always got her laid in college, and nudges the cardboard box toward him with her foot.

He flips open the top flap without saying anything – which, for Rodney, is saying something – and if he's embarrassed, he's not so embarrassed that it stops him from immediately reaching into the box and pulling out – interesting. The harness.

"What do you mean, play?" His voice sounds hoarse, but he's running the straps through his fingers like they're silk scarves and he's a magician's apprentice.

She leans over and kisses him on the mouth, then pulls back and whispers. "We could do some roleplaying," she says. "I could be the, uh, tentacle monster – " _shit_ , she thinks, _so much for not using that term_ – "and you could, you know."

"Be the victim?" Rodney asks. He sounds alarmed.

She shrugs. "If you like? I didn't – I thought you seemed into the idea, but I wasn't sure how you'd want to do it."

He runs his hands up her sides, thumbs over her nipples, scratches his fingernails lightly against her skin where he knows there are tentacle-marks. She inhales sharply; it's almost ticklish, but not quite.

"I'm, um, I'm into the idea," he breathes, and it sounds like it's an understatement. "What are the options?"

She drains her glass of wine, then takes his glass out of his hand and sets them both down on the floor. "Well," she begins, pushing him down onto the couch. "There are a lot of things that tentacles can do."

Even before she reaches for him, he starts lifting his arms above his head. She smiles helplessly and brings his wrists together, crossing them and then pinning them above his head. "They can hold you down, for starters."

"Yeah?" He arches up to kiss her, then thrashes suddenly with his legs. She almost loses her grip, but then finds her balance again and pins his hips beneath hers.

"Yeah," she confirms, pushing down harder. His eyes are bright, bright blue, and suddenly she gets a good feeling in her chest, like this is all going to _work_. She's never had that feeling before outside of the operating room, and it shocks her, a little. She kisses him again.

"Or they can choke you," she murmurs, letting go of his wrists and putting her hands around his throat. To her delight, he keeps his hands above his head and arches his head back, pushing his neck upwards.

"Oh, god," he says, and his eyes flutter closed. "I – Jennifer, I've been so jealous – "

"What, of me?" she asks. She keeps her fingers tight around his throat, but doesn't actually press in; she figures they might save the breathplay for their second tentacle-date. If they make it that far.

"No, no." He swallows hard under her hands and opens his eyes again. "Of Ronon. Of Zelenka. Of, of . . . John."

"Which brings us to another thing that tentacles can do," she murmurs, bending down over him to put her lips right next to his ear. "They can fuck you." She nips at his earlobe, then adds, "Hard."

"Jesus, Jennifer, yes, c'mon," he groans, and twists his head to take her mouth; his tongue is hot and hard and he's so damned _eager_ that Jennifer has to grind herself down against him a little, getting a little friction from the seam of her jeans.

"Can I tie you up?" she asks, when the kiss ends.

"Sure," he breathes, then grins at her in that nervous-but-brave way that he has. "Less work for me that way, anyhow."

She laughs and levers herself off the couch, letting him up. He takes off his shirt and pants on the way to the bed, and she follows his example, getting down to her underwear.

"On your back?" she asks. "Or on your front?"

"I – " Rodney looks like she's just asked him to choose between cake and ice cream. "On my back?"

She grins down at him and holds up the velcro medical restraints she swiped from the infirmary. Obediently, he puts his wrists up against the weird metal lattice-work on the wall behind the bed.

"You ever done anything like this before?" She makes the restraint too tight at first, so pulls it apart and does it again. The tearing sound of the velcro coming apart is loud, suddenly, like the sound of her breathing, the sound of Rodney's breathing. They're really going to do this, and the certainty of it settles in her stomach.

"Just, I, once – I mean, with one other person, a few times, but, not that many times really. Three. Three times. Do I get a safeword?"

She grins where he can't see, then slides back down his body until they're face to face, making sure to rub her thigh against his cock. "Yeah," she says. "Like a traffic light, green for go, yellow for slow down – "

"Red for stop," Rodney breathes, and bends one knee so that she falls against him a little further. She pushes back against him for a minute – even through the cotton underwear, his dickhead feels good where it rubs up against her clit.

"Unnngh," Rodney says.

"I love your genius astrophysicist sex noises," she deadpans, if a little breathlessly, and climbs back up to secure his other wrist. He tilts his head up and kisses a tentacle-mark beneath her ribs as she leans over him, and she feels a hot pulse of pleasure between her legs.

Finished, she crawls back down and kisses him again. When she pulls back, he follows her up as far as he can, but soon his shoulders pull him back down to the bed.

"You're mine now," she grins. "Trapped."

"Yeah?" Rodney struggles a little against the wrist cuffs.

"Yeah." She licks her lips, and figures she might as well start. She lowers her voice to something she hopes approximates a husky murmur. "But that's how you want it, isn't it? You want to be, uh, held down." She glances at him, and he nods helpfully, so she runs her palms along his forearms, down his biceps to his armpits. He squirms under her fingers – ticklish – and she takes a moment to enjoy that before moving back up again to press down hard against his forearms. She pauses, and licks her lips, trying to figure out what to say next. "You want to feel them all over you, touching you, keeping you still."

He groans and closes his eyes, which gives her and idea. Moving slowly, she slides one hand down over his forehead, until she's covering his eyes with her palm.

"Uh, yellow," Rodney says, and she draws back suddenly.

"Sorry, sorry, was that not – "

"No, it was great," Rodney protests, "just, I don't like – having things over my eyes. Um. But the rest was really, really great, seriously." He looks so earnest about it that she has to smile at him.

"Okay, check. Nothing over the eyes. Anything else before we go on?"

"I can't think of anything."

"Okay," Jennifer says again. "Tell you what, how about this: will you close your eyes for me, and keep them closed?"

"Oh! Sure, that's fine," he agrees, and smiles up at her.

She stares at him for a second. "Rodney?"

"Oh! Right, okay, yes." He closes his eyes.

"Because if you can't see," she says, thinking about it, "you can't tell where they all are, where they're coming from." She's just speaking in her normal tone this time, really considering it – the idea of tentacles everywhere, swarming out of her body and all over the bed. "You never know if they're going to touch you, or where." Slowly, she runs a finger down Rodney's side.

Rodney's breathing speeds up.

"They could do anything to you, and you wouldn't even know about it until it was already happening." She lets one hand drift out, slide up Rodney's thigh, and then curls her fingers sinuously around the waistband of his boxers. "They – I, I would strip you down and expose you," she whispers. With one swift tug, she yanks Rodney's boxers down his legs and off, leaving him naked. Her nipples are pressing hard against the scratchy lace of her bra, which is nice, so she leaves it on, but she works her underwear off and tosses it on the pile with Rodney's. Then she stares at him, tied up, cock hard, lying there ready for her, and she doesn't know where to touch first. God, she wishes she really did still have those tentacles. She presses a thumb to her nipple and rubs hard.

"What else," Rodney whispers, after a long pause.

"This," she says, and wraps one hand around his cock. "I'd coil around your wrists and ankles and hold you down, and then I'd wrap around your dick, just – " she gives him a long, slow tug – "like – " another one – "this, and there would be nothing. You. Could do. About it."

He groans and presses his hips up against her hand, and she pulls her hand away. He breathes hard, obviously trying to get himself under control, and she touches his thigh instead, his knee, the sole of his foot. Then she swings north again, and runs her hands over his throat while she tongues at a nipple.

"Everywhere," Rodney says, and Jennifer remembers their conversation in the cafeteria that afternoon. "You'd touch me everywhere at once."

"Everywhere I want to touch you," she agrees, and brushes the back of her knuckles against his cock, only for a second. "Maybe not where you want me to touch."

Jennifer watches, fascinated, as he bites his lip, and doesn't speak, and doesn't open his eyes. She's never seen him like this before. When she speaks again, her voice cracks a little.

"But I'd touch where I wanted to touch," she says. "I'd want to get inside you, get as much of me inside you as I could." She brushes three fingers over his lips, and he hesitates, then opens his mouth wide, accepting her in. She dips her fingers in, strokes them against his tongue, and he sucks eagerly. Just the sight of it makes her press her thighs together, hard, and her own eyes shutter closed just for a moment while Rodney takes her fingers inside.

"Oh, that's good," she says, getting into it. "That's real good, Rodney, just like that." She lets him go for another few seconds, then pulls her fingers away and gets off the bed completely. His head falls back against the bed and he turns his face to the side, panting.

"Jennifer," he says, "it's so good, please don't stop."

"I think you mean green," she grins.

"Green," Rodney repeats. "Anything you want, just – "

"Shhhh," she says, struggling with the harness a little. She always tries to put it on backwards for some reason, and it's been a while since she's worn it at all. "I'll be right back."

When she gets it settled right against her hips, she can't help but grasp the long, thick cock and stroke it once or twice, driving it in against her clit. It feels amazing; she'd forgotten that, like she'd forgotten the look and feel of it on her body.

Or maybe she's just seeing it differently, now that she's been a tentacle monster and all. The little – tendrils, Teyla had called them, the little budding tentacles that hadn't fallen off right away – they'd looked like little cocks sticking out from her torso, her thighs, her back. She strokes this cock now like she stroked them, and looks back over at Rodney.

To her surprise, Rodney is looking back at her.

"Sorry, sorry," he says, and closes his eyes again. "You just look so hot with that on, I couldn't help it."

She grins and climbs back on the bed, straddling him. She tears open a condom packet and rolls the latex down over the dildo.

"You should've seen me right after," she admits, softly. "I had all these – these little vines coming out of me, that didn't fall off right away." She leans down to whisper in his ear, rubbing the dildo up against his stomach while she does. "Lots of them, everywhere, and they were so _sensitive_ – "

Rodney groans against her jaw and then opens his mouth, running his teeth along her neck.

"I touched them, and they felt so weird, half-alive. Like they were part of me, but not." Leaning over, Jennifer picks up a couple of latex gloves from the bedside table and snaps them on, then lubes up her fingers. The lube is cold.

She runs one wet finger over Rodney's nipple, then dips another into his belly button. "Open your eyes, Rodney," she says, and after a moment, he does and meets her gaze.

"I could've rubbed them up against you," she says. "Is that what you would've wanted? To feel them on you?"

"Yes," Rodney says, sounding hoarse. She adds more fingers, her index fingers and pinkies and thumbs all running slick and cool over Rodney's skin, playing him like a piano. "Yes, I would've – I would've touched them," he says, haltingly, and then his voice drops low. "I would've sucked them."

Jennifer pushes two fingers slowly into Rodney's asshole. They've done fingering enough times before that she knows Rodney's rhythms almost instinctively, and curls her fingers inside him just as he brings his knees up and rocks backward. She slips in a third finger, stretching him out, getting him ready.

"You know what I'm doing?" she asks, and she sounds strange, out of breath. She can't help but press her cock down against the bed, giving herself some pressure, some relief. The pleasure is building up quickly, and she rides the warm silicone for a minute, almost coming, then backing off.

"You're gonna fuck me," Rodney says. "C'mon, do it, just like . . . like . . . "

"Just like with the tentacles," she finishes for him, when he flounders. Positioning herself between his thighs, she presses slowly, gradually inside him, loving the feel of it, the position, his knees fitting up on her shoulders while she drives into him. "I'd have put as many inside your ass as I could," she gasps, and begins to rock in and out. "Two of them, or three, squirming around in, inside you – "

"Yeah," Rodney pants. "And, and – "

"And in your mouth," Jennifer agrees, and leans forward far enough to slip her fingers back into Rodney's mouth as the first waves of her orgasm begin to shudder through her. Rodney sucks, and moans, and his eyes fall closed again as he pulls, hard, against the wrist cuffs, thrashes against the bed as he's held down and filled up. Jennifer thrusts forward, rough, losing her rhythm, and rides it out, squeezing her own eyes shut and feeling it spread out to her fingertips, her toes, and then it crests and she groans long and low as she loses herself in it.

When she manages to open her eyes again, she sees Rodney still writhing against the sheets and shoving himself forward onto her cock, and she gets one cold slick hand on his dick and meets him stroke for stroke, the sight and feel of him beneath her enough to topple her over into another orgasm, then another as the dildo rubs hard over her clit. She's overwhelmed with it, huffing out a laugh as she fucks him hard, gets her hand around his dick and starts giving him rough, fast pulls to match the fucking she's giving his ass and his mouth. Rodney thrashes and comes all over them both, covering her hand and his belly, pulsing over and over again until he finally stops, collapses back against the bed, and looks almost unconscious for a good thirty seconds while Jennifer catches her breath and contemplates giving him CPR.

He manages to tilt his head up and get his eyes open before she starts with the chest compressions, though. "Oh, oh, Jesus," he says. "I can't – Jennifer, oh my god, that was incredible." He grins dopily up at her, and she grins back from where her head is poking out between his thighs. As gently as she can, she pulls out of him and gets rid of the condom, undoing the harness and shimmying it down her hips until she gives it a final kick and it falls off the bed.

She flops down next to him, draped half on top of his chest with her face in the pillow next to his head.

"Did you come?" Rodney asks, and she starts giggling again.

"Oh my god, Rodney," she says, "were you awake back there? I came like four times, I don't even know."

"Well, sorry if I was kind of distracted," Rodney replies, nettled. She sort of laugh-snorts into the pillow, then drags her face up to look at him.

"How're you doing?" she asks, feeling punchy.

"I am really, really great," he says earnestly. "And you are _incredible_ , did I say that already?"

"Yup. But you can say it again if you like."

"Holy shit," Rodney says reverently. "Why haven't we been doing this for the last six months?"

"Probably because I only got turned into a tentacle monster a couple weeks ago," Jennifer says, shrugging loosely. "You want me to untie you?"

"Sure, whatever," Rodney says, obviously tripping on endorphins. Jennifer flails at his wrists for a minute before she manages to rip the velcro apart. "You know, I really have to say, in retrospect I'm quite grateful that you turned into a B-movie villain and tried to take over the city."

"Yeah," she smiles, slipping under the sheet. "Me too."

"Though it's too bad that I wasn't around when you were – when you had all your tentacles and things." And only Rodney could sound so embarrassed about his tentacle fantasy after he's just had his girlfriend dirty-talk him through it. It's kind of endearing.

Jennifer yawns. "It is too bad," she agrees. "You really should've seen me, Rodney. I was amazing."

"Yeah," he says, and rolls his eyes, "because you're so boring now."

"I could always change into something else. Get a third arm."

"That sounds like a perfectly practical way to keep our sex life interesting," Rodney replies. "I have always had that fetish for aquatic mammals."

She kisses him on the cheek. "I knew it," she says. "On the other hand, maybe it's your turn."

Rodney grins at her, then yawns. "Yeah? What do you want, flippers? Wings?"

"I've always sort of thought that you'd make a cute lizard," Jennifer drawls.

Leaning in to her, Rodney kisses her slow, letting it last, drawing it out. When they pull apart, he sighs.

"If I turned into a semi-sentient lizard person through some accident of Pegasus technology, would you still have sex with me?"

Jennifer smiles as sweet as she knows how. "Baby," she says, "it's a promise."


End file.
